Marcus: the Young Centurion Part 49

"But you, Marcus, my boy," said Cracis, as he gazed wonderingly in his son's face, while Caius Julius watched them both in turn--"you knew me, of course?"

"No, father," replied Marcus, whose face was scarlet now with excitement. "I only saw that it was a Roman officer."

"And you dashed at once to his help," said Caius Julius, smiling.

"Well, it was a brave act then, while now I scarcely know what to call it. Why, Marcus, you must feel very proud of what you have done."

"Stop!" cried the boy, quickly, eager to end the words of praise and compliment.

"Yes, stop," said Cracis, sternly. "You here, Marcus, in a soldier's armour, and Serge as well! Is this the way my commands are obeyed? Why are you here?"

"To bring the message of the general commanding the rear-guard, father.

He is shut in on the snowy pa.s.s that crosses the mountain, and held there by many times his number of the enemy; and he sent me and Serge to the army here to ask for help."

"He sent you, boy?" cried Cracis, quickly.

"Yes, father," replied Marcus, "and I was to say that at all cost he would hold out till help was sent."

"Help shall be sent at once," said Cracis, firmly; "or better still, Julius," he continued, "our work being so far completed, with yesterday's victory, we will march to his help ourselves."

Caius Julius bent his head without saying a word, and then sat back in his seat, attentively watching father and son.

"But your message did not answer my question, boy," said Cracis, coldly.

"Marcus, my son, how came it that you were with the little army that at my orders was to follow in our wake, crus.h.i.+ng down the Gauls who would be sure to gather after we had pa.s.sed? Speak out, sire: how came you there?"

"I could not bear it, father: something seemed to tell me that you would be in danger, and I followed you to Rome, and then on here."

"Then you disobeyed my commands, boy," said Cracis, sternly; and Marcus sank upon his other knee, clasped his hands, and held them out before him. Closing his eyes then he threw back his head and was silent while one might have slowly counted ten. Then in a low, distinct tone, full of sorrow and despair, he said slowly:

"Yes, father; I disobeyed your command."

"And you, Serge, my old and trusted servant, old soldier though you were," continued Cracis, in tones that sounded icy, "as soon as my back was turned you plotted with my son to follow me and forsake your post."

"Nay, master," cried Serge, quickly; "there was no plotting. I deserted first."

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Caius Julius again, and his clearly-cut face looked as if it were formed of marble.

"Worse and worse," cried Cracis, angrily. "Then you set the example which my weak son followed?"

"No, father," cried Marcus, quickly; "I did not know that Serge had gone."

"Ah!" said Cracis, quickly. "What excuse have you to make, sir, for deserting your post?"

"I didn't, master," cried the old soldier, stoutly. "I didn't desert my post. My post was where I was last night, at my master's side. It was my post that deserted me."

"What!" cried Cracis, angrily. "Insolent!"

"Nay, master," cried the old soldier; "I'm as humble as young Marcus there, and I'd kneel down just the same as he's a-doing now, but them Gauls knocked me about so in the fight that my legs won't bend. Look here, master; I couldn't help it. I was just like the boy there; I felt somehow that you'd want your old follower's help, and I was obliged to come and join you. You see, we came together, and reached you just in time."

"You disobeyed my commands, Serge," said Cracis, speaking as if deaf to his old follower's appealing words. "You too, my son; but the words of both tell of the repentance in your b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Prove, then, by your next acts that you are willing to make amends. Silence! Do not speak, but act. The horrors and bloodshed of this campaign are not for my son and servant. You, Serge, do your duty as guardian--you, Marcus, yours, in obedience at once. Back home at once, and I will forgive."

"And leave you now, father, wounded, amidst all these perils?" cried Marcus, wildly. "I cannot! I would sooner die!"

Cracis started angrily to his feet and tore the bandage from his head, as at that moment two officers advanced as if to receive commands.

"You hear me, Marcus?" he cried, sternly. "You hear me, Serge?"

"Yes, master," said the old soldier, slowly, and making an effort with his bruised and stiffened limb, he slowly pa.s.sed his hand across to his left side and drew his short, heavy sword, pa.s.sed the hilt into his left so that he could clasp the blade with his right, and in that way held it out to Cracis as he went on speaking: "I disobeyed you once, master, and that's enough for a Roman soldier. Take hold. I've kept it as sharp as it was in the old days when I followed you to victory, ready to die for you, master, as I am this day, for I can't live to disobey you again.

Take it, I say, master, and let me die at once; better that you should cut me down than that I should myself fall upon my sword, for that has always seemed to me a coward's death."

"Stop, Serge!" cried Marcus, pa.s.sionately, and he laid his hand upon his old comrade's blade. "I am a Roman, if only a boy, and I have the right to appeal."

Turning to Caius Julius, he cried:

"You refused me once, sir, when I appealed to you, saying that I was but a weak unseasoned boy--not in those words, but that is what you meant."

Caius Julius gravely bent his head, and fixed his keen, glittering eyes upon the speaker, who went on:

"Since then I have tried hard to prove myself worthy to bear the arms I was taught by an old soldier to use."

The general bowed his head slowly once again.

"Then help me, sir. It is from no desire to disobey, but I feel that I cannot leave my father now. Forgive me, father. I cannot obey you.

Forgive me, too, for this appeal."

"Yes," said Caius Julius, rising from his seat and taking a step or two forward. "You both disobeyed, and came here bearers of an important despatch which means more than you, boy, can imagine, in time to save a father's and a master's life. Serge, old comrade," he continued, laying his hand upon the unsheathed sword, "keep your blade for our enemies.

If it prove necessary I will kneel for you to my oldest friend and ask his forgiveness for you and my brave young soldier here. Boy," he continued, "you have confessed your fault as your father's son, but since he left you, a simple scholar, you have become a soldier and bravely done your duty in your country's cause. Cracis, my brother general, I grant your son's appeal. Endorse it, man, for a fault so frankly acknowledged is half atoned."

"I must have obedience," said Cracis, coldly, "not defiance, at a time like this."

"I feel with you, old friend," said Caius Julius, slowly, "but your wounds have fevered you, and it has not been cool, calculating Cracis who has spoken, but the angry, offended general. Brother, you desire that your old servant and your son should return home at once?"

"Yes," said Cracis, speaking faintly now.

"How?" said Caius Julius, quickly. "Alone, to fight their way through the thousands of half conquered Gauls who will bar their way to the pa.s.s where the great captain is waiting for help?"

Cracis looked wildly at his brother in arms, and then slowly turned his eyes upon his son--eyes that had flashed but a short time before, but which now softened into a look of loving pride, as he slowly sank back insensible upon his rough pillow, Marcus darting to his side.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

"MY OWN BRAVE BOY!"

The speech Cracis made when he recovered from the fainting fit brought on by emotion when he was weak and prostrate from his wounds, and found Marcus by his side bathing his face, was very short, setting the boy's heart at rest and telling him that the past was entirely forgiven; and the stern Roman judge merged once more in the loving father. For the speech was this:

"My own brave boy!"

"Ah!" cried Caius Julius, who had just hurried back, after having been away for a very brief time giving the orders which had set the whole camp in motion. "This is bad for you, Cracis, for we start at once straight for the pa.s.s, and as fast as we can go. Do you think you will be able to sit a horse?"